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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615559">Whiskey In A Teacup</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeviltohisangel/pseuds/thedeviltohisangel'>thedeviltohisangel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Triple Frontier (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:14:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29615559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeviltohisangel/pseuds/thedeviltohisangel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Santi first got out of the military, he hadn’t known what to think of his options. There was always the option of giving up and going back in. The option to join a shadowy private military company. Go into private security. Go on the recruiting circuit. Maybe even become a cop. But none of them seemed like the best path. They all seemed like giving up. He had been trained by his country to be an elite, lethal machine. Being anything but the best felt like a cop out. So when an old friend of his reached out with an offer from the Secret Service, he accepted it on the spot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Original Female Character(s), Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Reader, Santiago "Pope" Garcia/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Whiskey In A Teacup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Santi first got out of the military, he hadn’t known what to think of his options. There was always the option of giving up and going back in. The option to join a shadowy private military company. Go into private security. Go on the recruiting circuit. Maybe even become a cop. But none of them seemed like the best path. They all seemed like giving up. He had been trained by his country to be an elite, lethal machine. Being anything but the best felt like a cop out. So when an old friend of his reached out with an offer from the Secret Service, he accepted it on the spot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The election had recently ended with a brand new administration being ushered into the White House. Pope thought he looked cookie cutter. Like he was aging perfectly, his wife wasn’t aging at all and his family had all done Cotillion. He was in an empty conference room flipping through the personnel files that had been left for him before he waited for his friend to pick him up for whatever orientation he had to go through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santi! Glad you were able to make it in.” He stood and shook his friend’s hand, happy to have someone to talk to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah and was cleared to read the briefing materials,” he answered as he dropped the folder back down onto the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. So the basics are out of the way. Now, I vouched for you hard with leadership and they want you on the detail. Close circle, last line of defense type of shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect. Exactly the stakes you know I’m cut out for.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that. But the future First Lady doesn’t.” Santi furrowed his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why does that matter?” His friend cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She has requested she look every agent in the inner circle in the eye before they are officially assigned. Protective wife and mama bear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not saying the debutante daughters are included in my assignment are you?” Santiago hoped he wasn’t. They looked like stuck up brats and he would rather join Will on the speech circuit than put up with attitudes like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying the other agents have been tripping over themselves to try and get conversations with the older one.” His friend pointed at her picture on the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s disgusting,” Pope whined. “How do I get her approval? I got to wait a week for an appointment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her and the daughters are at a photoshoot right now for the cover of Vogue. Said she would talk to you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great.” It would be one of his more unconventional interviews but Santi was eager. Chomping at the bit to get back in the game. Feel useful again. Devote his life to something other than thinking about the past. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The people allowed on the set were few. His friend introduced him to a few other agents and pointed to where the incoming First Lady was smiling for the camera.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s find somewhere we can wait for her to be done.” Santi kept his head down, smiling politely and shaking hands where appropriate, as they made their way towards the rooms in the back of the studio. There were two agents standing outside a door, nodding once as they let Santi and his friend into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Marnie, can you help me zip?” The female voice was coming from behind the dressing screen in the corner. Both men looked at each other, not sure what the appropriate thing to say was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, ma’am, we can go-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No that’s fine. I think I can do it myself.” Pope stayed silent as the woman, he thinks it was Penelope, stepped out in a beautiful blush pink dress that hugged her like it was made for her. He hates that his mouth ran dry and his tongue felt thick. But he pushed it aside as quickly as it came. “You’re new. And not in a suit. A friend of yours, Sam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am. This is Santiago Garcia. Old Army buddy. He is here for a job interview.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A pleasure to meet you ma’am.” Santiago extended his hand and Penelope shook it even though her eyes were rolling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So stupid she makes all of you talk to her first. But I guess that’s why I am not in charge,” Penelope shrugged. “I’m sure it will go well and I’ll see you around, Santiago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santi,” he blurted out before he could stop himself. “Just...Santi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santi,” she whispered like she was just testing it out. “The pleasure was all mine.” She smiled as she spun, the skirt flying around her like a Disney movie, and then she was out the door and gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t she something?” Sam mused as he still stared at the door she had just disappeared through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful. And probably a troublemaker,” Pope replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t you like to know?” his friend teased with a slap on his back. The sad thing was, he thinks he did.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Penelope hated that no such privacy existed in her life anymore. It hadn’t for awhile but it had only gotten worse in the past month since her father won the election. Even now, lying in bed flipping through fashion magazines, there were people bustling in and out to pack her stuff for the move. People asking which fabric and color she thought looked best for her inauguration dress. If she liked this or that singer for the National Anthem and if she thought her peers would find this or that choice relatable. She answered with a smile and took it all in stride but couldn’t wait to shut the door and go to bed. But even there she dreamt of flags and men in suits and waving until her arm felt like it was going to fall off. There was no such thing as privacy and there was no such thing as peace. Penelope felt she was no longer her own person but everyone’s. They told her that’s what being in the first family meant. But she didn’t like it and she didn’t want it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am?” It sounded like her new assistant on the other side of the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Penny had just started winding down for the night. Her face was soft from copious amounts of moisturizer. Her hair was fluffy after she took her time drying it. Her silk nightgown was kissing her legs with every step. She was tired. She wanted to curl up in a ball under a pile of blankets and dream of simpler times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your new agent is here. I just wanted to introduce you before he started his first shift.” Penelope sighed and moved back towards her closet to find a knit robe that would help protect at least some of her humility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can come in.” She recognized him instantly as the handsome man from the Vogue set. He looked even better now. Well groomed and in a suit that must have been tailored by an old school professional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma’am this is-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santiago,” Penelope said before the introduction could be finished. “I’m glad to see the interview went well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re practically the same age. Any other title other than ma’am would work better.” He made her blush just by looking at her. It was tragic and sad. That she had to meet him like this. That he had to be someone that worked for her father. That he had to be stoic and professional all the time. That they hadn’t just met in a bar on a Saturday night or bumped into each other at a mutual friend’s backyard picnic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I’ll think on it and get back to you,” he offered with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agent Garcia is on interior duty tonight but I am sure you’ll get used to his presence quickly, ma’am.” She didn’t bother correcting her assistant. She didn’t care what she called her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I look forward to it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright let’s go over Polar’s schedule for the day.” It had been a couple of days since Santi had started and so far he was enjoying it. His fellow agents were nice enough and had a similar sense of humor to him. Many of them had even served and it was nice to swap stories with people other than the men in his unit. He was posted close to the action and was never really bored. Penelope was his principle. Her safety was his only priority most days and he was by her side at morning show appearances, fancy dinners with campaign donors and visits to DC elementary schools. Things were moving faster and tighter the closer they got to the inauguration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t spoken much since his first night. Just nods and smiles as they made elusive eye contact throughout the day. She was beautiful. That was the simplest way for Santi to describe her. The most professional way. It was wrong but he wanted to know more about her. Learn what made her life. Made her cry. What she liked to eat and what she would order at McDonalds. Santi was someone full of life and warmth and love for those around him. Sometimes it was hard to be so cold. He hadn’t had to be so since he retired from the military. It was dredging up old feelings from the past. But he was more concerned how he felt more comfortable than he had before. How being alert and hearing radio static and a gun at his hip made him feel more at ease than the creature comforts of home ever could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got a pilates class, Skype call with a dress designer and then a private dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Private dinner?” Santi hadn’t heard that on the schedule before and it made his ears perk up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s been seeing this guy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of a douche,” one of the other agents chimed in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-and it's very underwraps, very lowkey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We normally draw straws or play rock, paper, scissors to see who has to take it.” Santi furrowed his brow as all the comments flooded his system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s so awful about a dinner date?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the company she keeps,” one chimed in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s dull and chews weird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurts to listen to and hurts to watch.” They all groaned in unison.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take it then. The watching and listening part.” He was a low man on the totem pole anyways but he was also curious. He wanted to see this train wreck with his own two eyes. He took the file when it was offered, leaving the room when they were dismissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” Sam muttered as he fell into step next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. This will satiate me,” Santi replied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stood dutifully by the car, waiting to open the door for Penelope whenever she was ready to go. The twisted part of him was excited to see how this night played out. Maybe it would at least be worth the good story. How the beautiful first daughter dated a slob and he was paid to be a third wheel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Santiago? I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” Her fingers tightened around her clutch as she squared her shoulders to face him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes…” he froze when he remembered he had agreed to not refer to her as ma’am.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still thinking of something else to call me?” she asked with a smirk. Penelope didn’t wait for him to respond and instead slipped under his arm and into the backseat of her car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The drive was dead silent. Santi felt awkward but knew this was a part of the job he would have to get used to. She wasn’t his friend. Wasn’t a girl he had picked up at a bar. She was his top priority in the least romantic way possible. He would take a bullet for her. When they arrived at the restaurant he moved swiftly to open her door and escort her into the dining room. They moved towards the back where a man was sitting alone. He looked like a college lacrosse player to Santi. In the most stereotypical of ways. His hands itched to pull Penelope’s seat out for her when her date didn’t, his eyes going to the menu instead of complementing the black dress she was wearing. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe this was going to be torture.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>accepting one shot requests for this pairing</p></blockquote></div></div>
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